There's No Such Thing As Gods: Only Angels Gone Bad
by Peeta Melark
Summary: Percy Jackson is (and I am loath to say it) a normal teenage boy. But witnessing a murder might just make him a bit far from ordinary, especially if no one else saw it. No one else could. He knows he should just pretend nothing happened, but he can't. Not when his mother goes missing. Not when "gods" and angels are fighting for power over the world he loves. I hate summaries, so...
1. Chapter 1

The party was wilder than what Percy was used to. He felt almost silly in his black jeans, fingerless gloves, and tight black shirt, like he was just a kid playing dress-up in his dad's old clothes. Of course, Percy's dad was dead, so he wasn't wearing his old clothes. He was wearing some clothes his friend Rachel had helped him pick out… Maybe _that_ was why he felt so stupid. This was more dressing up than he was used to. Of course, Rachel looked stunning. She was dancing with some blonde boy, dressed in a black, strapless dress with red laces up the side, knee-high heeled boots on her feet. Her hair was pulled away from her face, still a little bit wild. She looked so at ease, and Percy knew it would be wrong to pull her away when she was having so much fun. Still, he felt uneasy, and it wasn't just the outfit. He didn't like the party much. He felt like something bad was going to happen, something Rachel couldn't have known about when she decided to throw the party.

A flash of white caught his eye. A girl in a white dress prowled the edge of the dance floor, her sharp, stormy eyes scouring the crowd for… _something_. She was gorgeous—tall, high cheekbones, tanned skin, blonde hair—and she knew it. There was something in her smile, a curl of her lip that wasn't quite as sweet as it pretended to be. _Saccharine_. That was the word. The girl's smile was _saccharine_, dripping with falsified honey. The white of her dress only augmented that deceit. If he had to put a name to her, he might call her Elizabeth or Sophia. But he didn't think either of those were actually her name. She was too… _something_… for either of those. Percy just couldn't place what it was.

The girl's eye caught on someone across the floor: a tall, dark-eyed boy with reddish hair and faded olive skin. The blonde girl smiled and gestured towards the back of the Dares' ballroom. The boy smiled and followed, his movements languid and graceful. Percy couldn't place this either, but there was something off about him. He couldn't see the boy's chest rising and falling with breath. But everyone had to breathe… right? As he watched, they took hands and leaned close, dancing, embracing, about to kiss. Then there was a flash. The girl's hand was around a glowing whip, which was wound around the boy as if from nowhere. That was when Percy ran, pushing through the crowd to see better.

"…anything you want to know," the boy was saying. "I swear. I can tell you where the Big Three are! I swear by the A—"

"Don't you _dare_ say his name!" the girl shrieked. "Filthy _monster_."

The boy writhed as the whip tightened. "Please," he begged. "I'll tell you anything."

"Thalia!" the blonde girl cried. "Hold the whip. I'm going to finish him."

Another girl stepped from the shadows. Her arms bare and wound with thick black markings—tattoos, maybe. She was dark-haired, and blue eyes glittered in a pale, freckled face. She, too, was beautiful.

"It would be my pleasure," she murmured, taking the whip and passing the blonde girl a knife. The girl leaned into the blade, her lips almost touching its surface.

"_Athena,_" she whispered. The blade flared to life, glowing with a bright, beautiful light. Then it was gone, slashing through the air to pierce the boy's heart. Black blood welled up around the knife as is body collapsed inwards, finally disappearing into nothing.

Percy screamed. The grey-eyed girl's gaze fixed on him once, just briefly, before she was gone, disappeared into the crowd, her companion with her.

"What is it?" Rachel's voice filtered through the noise that had built in Percy's head. "Percy, what's the matter with you?"

He looked at his friend through a mist of fear and confusion. "Did none of you see that?" he squeaked.

"See what?"

"There was a girl… No… Two girls…" Percy pushed his hands through his hair, gulping in air like a fish out of water. "They killed a guy. You didn't see them?"

Rachel frowned. "What girls?"

"One was blonde… in a white dress… grey eyes. The other was dark-haired and blue-eyed. Black clothes, I think. They were over there." He pointed. Rachel's frown deepened.

"Percy, no one's been over there for at least an hour. I've been watching you for the past ten minutes. I was worried. I'd have seen them." She seemed resolute in her conclusions, her lips set into a tight line. "Maybe you should lie down for a bit."

Weakly, Percy nodded. "Maybe…" He shook his head. "No. Can't."

"Come on, Perseus. You'll be fine."

Percy winced. He didn't like the edge in Rachel's voice—tenseness that only came from fear. He didn't like her using his full name much either.

"Fine," he said, and let her lead him out of the room to a guest room. Once he was lying down, Rachel sat down on the bed next to him and took his hand in hers, rubbing his knuckles gently with her thumb.

"You'll be okay," she said. "Did something happen? Did you hit your head?"

"No."

"Are you sure nothing happened, Percy. You can tell me."

"Nothing. I didn't hit my head or anything… I had some water earlier, but, for some odd reason, I doubt that's the cause."

Rachel gave a strained laugh, but she didn't say anything more. After about twenty minutes, Percy got up, rubbing his eyes blearily.

"I'd better be going," he said. "I'll meet you tomorrow for coffee?"

"Sure." Rachel's eyes were clouded with concern as Percy left the room and let himself out of the giant house. As he meandered home, turning down the wrong street every once in a while, he wondered who those girls had been, why he was the only one who could see him. But soon, Rachel's worried face was all he could think of. And he had just walked out, leaving her to attend her own party in utter confusion. Maybe he _was_ going crazy. Maybe the fact that he was _deliberately_ turning the wrong corners was a sign of that. But he knew the way home. The wrong corners weren't because he was lost. They were because he needed time to think. He would take the long route home this once, just to make sure his head was clear before he told his mother about the party. He certainly didn't want her to know that he'd witnessed a murder. Not when he knew she would ground him for twenty years to life. No… Percy would have to wait before he investigated further. Or maybe he would just have to let the investigations come to him.

**A/N: I do hope this doesn't lower my standards… I know there's a lot of debate about the quality and originality of ****_the Mortal Instruments_****. But I found a similarity between the Mist and glamour enchantments, and I thought Annabeth would make a kickass Shadowhunter. And I actually quite enjoyed the series (though it was too sappy/overly romantic at points, and I didn't really like the main characters Jace and Clary). So…. I decided to write this. **

**I know Rachel should see through it, but I needed to make this one allowance for plot purposes. I think she'll be able to see through them later. **


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Percy met Rachel at the local coffee shop with a bright smile on his face, trying desperately to pretend nothing was wrong. Rachel wasn't buying it. She was there when he arrived, sipping irritably at her coffee, a half-eaten muffin staring up at her from its plate. As he walked in, she tore off a piece and shoved it into her mouth, frowning.

"Feeling better?" she asked. Percy nodded.

"Yeah. I don't know what came over me. Thanks for, you know, letting me leave and everything. I'd have made me stay."

Rachel laughed distractedly, running her fingers through her thick, curly red hair. It was a nervous habit of hers, one she'd had since we were kids. We had been friends all that time, too, after meeting in preschool. Percy knew everything about Rachel, and Rachel knew everything about me. Aside from his mum, she was all he had. But Percy didn't mind. Percy loved Rachel dearly, so much that he never wanted any other siblings, any other friends. Just Rachel. Always.

"What happened, Percy? And I mean what _really_ happened." Rachel's tone was final. Percy sighed.

"I don't know, Rach," he admitted. "I really don't. One minute I was fine, then I was seeing things."

"Like…?"

"Pretty blonde girls in pretty white dresses carrying glowing whips and knives named Athena. God, I must sound crazy."

Rachel shook her head, but not because she didn't agree. "I just don't believe it," she said. "You've always been so… grounded."

"Yeah," Percy agreed. "And now I'm a loony case from Loony Town."

"You're not a loony," Rachel said. "You're a great guy."

Somehow, Percy didn't feel comforted. "Thanks, Rach."

"Any time. Look, Percy, about—"

Percy's phone rang. He held up a finger and picked it up. A text from his mother telling him to get his butt home before she grounded him for life. Oops. He could have sworn he'd told her he was leaving.

"I've got to get home," he said. "But it was nice seeing you." With a quick kiss on her cheek, he was out the door, already starting the short walk to his home.

~O~O~O~O~

The door was open when he got there, or, rather, it wasn't there at all. Someone had torn it from the hinges. Someone strong. Beyond that, the entire apartment looked like it had been ripped apart and combed through. Things were strewn across the floor—clothes, vegetables, pictures, a few bits of Percy's unfinished math homework. Swearing under his breath, he went to grab them, but they were ruined, soaked through with water and… was that _blood_? Percy dropped the papers with a yell, backing up into his room. That, too, was a mess. His bedclothes were thrown everywhere, the sheets ripped to shreds. A scrap of paper fluttered on the wall, supported by a thin, messy strip of tape. Percy ran to it, tearing it down, and squinted at the blocky handwriting. His dyslexia made it harder to read, but he finally muddled through to:

_Perseus Jackson,_

_I assume you got my text. Hand over the Cup and you can see your mother again. Refuse to do so and you will never see her again—dead or alive._

_I await your reply._

There was no signature, no name, no possible way for Percy to know who had left the haunting, cryptic note. No way for him to track them down and force them to give his mother back. And he hadn't even realized she was gone. In his frenzy to investigate the house, to get away from the blood, he hadn't bothered to call out for her. He hadn't bothered to text either, but it was clear her phone was stolen. She hadn't even sent for him to come home. That was all a ploy to get him away from Rachel. A ploy to get 'the Cup.' Percy shivered. He didn't know anything about a Cup, just cups—like the kind in his mother's messy-but-organized kitchen. Certainly none with a capital 'c.'

A growling noise issued from the kitchen. Percy frowned, and fear pumped like fire in his veins as he crept forward, desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever was making that horrible noise. Maybe it knew something about his mother. Maybe it could take him to her.

As it turned out, going into the kitchen was a bad idea. Sitting on the tiled floor, chewing at a raw piece of steak, was the most disgusting thing Percy had ever seen. Its teeth were at least six inches long, and there were at least a hundred of them. Its hulking body was thick and leathery, coated in some kind of muddy sludge. Each of its 'hands' ended in three knobby fingers with grotesque, curving talons. The talons, Percy noticed, were caked with blood. It was almost enough to make him throw up. He gagged, choking on the stench of death and decay that radiated from the monster, and that was when the monster looked up and met his eyes. With a groan, it hauled itself up from the floor and started creeping towards Percy. It was slow and cumbersome, but Percy was pretty sure it could be fast if it had to. He didn't want to find out. Instead of running, he grabbed a frying pan from the stove and backed up towards the living room, which was hardly recognizable.

"Nice monster," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to find my mum. Have you seen her? Her name's Sally Jackson, and she's about yea tall, and she has brown hair, and—"

_Silence, Nephilim_. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, low and gurgling, filled with hate. _I will feast on your flesh and blood for lunch and then eat your bones for an afternoon snack_.

Percy gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, are you sure? You'll spoil your supper, and I don't think I'd taste too good."

_You will do nicely for dinner; you are right,_ said the voice—presumably the monster. _I appreciate your suggestion_.

"Ah, no, that wasn't a suggestion," Percy clarified. "Just asking you to kindly _not eat me_. My mum would be furious if I got eaten. I haven't finished my math homework yet."

The creature didn't seem to like the word 'math.' It lunged for Percy and knocked him against the wall, its teeth snagging in his sleeve. Pain exploded in his arm, sending shockwaves of agony up and down his spine. Dizzily, he looked down and saw a bloody wound, sizzling where some kind of poison met with his blood. He would have fainted then, and would have died, if the monster hadn't exploded into little bits as something shiny and sharp cut through it. A knife. Through his haze of pain, Percy looked up and saw the face of the blonde girl from Rachel's part. But in his delirium, he thought he was looking at an angel. He struggled to thank her, but his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth. He couldn't speak, couldn't move. The girl gave an exasperated yell, wiped her knife off on her skirt, and grabbed his arm.

"Come on, Seaweed Brain," she said. "Don't die on me like this. Chiron'll have me skinned."

That was all Percy remembered. The world went black and the angelic blonde girl disappeared from view. His last conscious thought was, _Where is she taking me?_

**A/N: Yeah… I gave up on trying to remember the plot of ****_City of Bones_****. There's a reason this is fanfiction, right? I don't have to follow the plot of either book except that he's looking for his mum (I've gotten the question before, so I'm going to say I have ****_no_**** idea why I say 'mum' instead of 'mom'), and he's fallen in with a bunch of weirdoes called "Shadowhunters." That's that, really. Tell me what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Percy woke up to searing pain and bright lights. The girl from the party—and his house—was sitting beside him, spooning something soft and sweet into his mouth. Come to think of it, it tasted like someone had boiled down his mother's chocolate chip cookies into a pudding the consistency and texture of applesauce. Each spoonful set his blood burning, until he finally cried out.

"Annabeth," said a man's voice. "That is enough."

The girl, Annabeth, scoffed and drew her hand away, shoving the spoon gracelessly into the bowl and setting that down on a table. In a tight, clipped voice, she began to rant and rave.

"So what if he burns?" she cried. "At least now we know he's not a mundane!"

"Yes," said the man, who Percy still could not see. "And it was very, very dangerous for you to Mark him without knowing what it would do. Giving him ambrosia was another matter _entirely_!"

"Ugh!" Annabeth threw her slender, muscled arms into the air. "We _knew_ he wasn't a mundane _before_. He saw me."

"The Sight, Annabeth."

"But how often does _that_ happen? I've _never_ met a mundane who could see me. Not like that. Though… he does have that stupid look to him." She put her hands on her hips and all but stomped her foot. "Look at his eyes, Chiron. He's waking up."

The man—Chiron—stepped into view. He was tall and well built with a greying beard and greying hair. He looked scholarly, like he should have been teaching Latin in a middle school classroom, and he had a British accent—English, to be exact. He leaned over and looked into Percy's eyes. With a small sound of disappointment, he straightened up and turned back to Annabeth.

"I'm afraid you're right," he said. "Eyes like that can only come from one place. Poseidon."

Percy could have sworn Annabeth shivered. "But," she said. "The Big Three haven't had children in _centuries_. This is impossible. Besides, the Thirteen are all but demons now. It's forbidden."

Chiron, for a moment, seemed angry. "Did that stop your mother?" he asked. Annabeth flinched.

"No," she muttered. "It didn't. Don't think I'm not ashamed of my blood."

"Don't be." Chiron's eyes softened. "Your powers are… extraordinary. Far better than any other I've trained. Half angel… half god."

The girl scoffed again, tugging at her hair. "Gods don't exist," she said. "They're just angels with intense power complexes. How else could I have named my knife Athena?"

Percy struggled to sit up, trying to make as much noise as possible. Annabeth strangled off abruptly, her words falling into nothing. Then, shaking her head, she stalked off towards the cupboards filled with bandages and medicines. As she busied herself grabbing this and that, Chiron sat down on the bed next to Percy's.

"How are you feeling?" he asked. Percy groaned.

"Like death warmed over." He paused. "And kind of thirsty, now that I think about it."

Chiron smiled, right up to his eyes. Percy couldn't help but be reminded of his mother. She had that kind of smile, too.

"Annabeth," he said. "Please bring Perseus a glass of water."

Percy blinked heavily. "How… How do you know my name?"

This prompted a laugh from Chiron, a deep, kind chuckle that made Percy feel safe. It reminded him of his mother, who tried not to have an unkind word about anyone. It was the kind of laugh that made him very homesick.

"I know many things about you," he said. "Mostly thanks to Annabeth. Ah—" he broke off as Annabeth came back. "The water."

Annabeth handed the glass to Percy, careful not to look at him. In the light, Percy noticed thick black markings running up and down her arms and peeking out of the collar of her shirt—the same tattoos he had seen on the other girl. But they were different, too, somehow. Percy thought she looked too young to have that many tattoos.

"They're Marks," she explained, catching his stare. She pointed to his arm. "You've got one, too."

Percy looked down, gasping as his eyes caught on an intricate pattern on his arm. Annabeth almost smiled.

"It's an _iratze_," she said. "Healing rune. You were bitten by that demon." She sounded almost contemptuous, her chin held proudly. "I saved you," she added.

"Yeah, thanks. I noticed." There was no venom, just resignation. Annabeth seemed to sense this, and she sighed.

"We can't turn you out," she said. "It's against the law. And we'll find your mother. Whoever took her is no friend to the Nephilim… or the Clave."

Nephilim? Clave? Who _were_ these people? Percy thought they talked as if they were part of some huge organization, set to save the world from demons and monsters in the name of Heaven. But there was no such thing as Heaven. At least Percy didn't believe there was. He just believed that people went back to being the way they were before they were born… whatever _that_ was.

"Thanks," he said automatically. Then something hit him. "Rachel."

Annabeth turned to look at him sharply, her eyes glinting dangerously. "What?"

"Rachel," Percy repeated. "I need to find her. My friend. She's probably worried out of her mind."

Annabeth scoffed for what must have been the third or fourth time, muttering something that sounded like 'stupid mundane.' Or maybe it was something about putrid rain. He wasn't quite sure. Either way, her derisive tone was clear as day as she turned on her heel and stalked out of the room, calling out for Percy to follow her.

Percy did, though he wasn't sure how he managed to stay on his feet. Every step was dizzying, and he felt like he had been knocked over the head with a bag full of bricks… or maybe an elephant made out of bricks. Eventually, he and Annabeth ended up in a large entry hall with high, arching ceilings and a huge, heavy oak door. There were other kids there, too, all with tattoos—Marks—like Annabeth's. One was the blue-eyed girl from the party, who was conversing with Annabeth in low whispers, another was a small-boned boy with curly black hair and black, gleaming eyes, another was tall, wiry, and blonde, and looked a lot like Annabeth. Next to them stood a redheaded girl with green eyes (kind of like Rachel's, now that he thought about it), another blonde boy, and a boy and girl with thick, black hair. The boys were locked in conversation, as were the girls, and they didn't pay much attention to Annabeth's friends. Finally, Annabeth broke away to introduce me.

"Percy, this is Malcolm—" she indicated the wiry blonde. "And this is Thalia, Nico, Alexander, Isabelle, Clarissa, and Jonathan Christopher—"

"Please," said the other blonde. "I've asked you to call me Jace."

"Clary," the redhead chimed.

"Izzy," said the black-haired girl with black eyes.

"Alec," chimed the boy next to her.

"Yeah," said Nico. "Just don't call me Nicky. I'll have to kill you if you don't die laughing."

"Why are we here?" asked Alec, narrowing his blue eyes. "To find his mundane friend?"

"Yes," Annabeth said. "We need her."

**A/N: I wanted to include the Shadowhunters from the original series, so I decided to alter the canon universe just a little. I'll give you more background later, I promise. Just trust me that this is going to be great (possibly…). I swear I'll tie up loose ends. **

**In the meantime, if there's a character you're dying to see, just write it into a review and I'll see what I can do! **


	4. Chapter 4

Rachel was all but camped outside Percy's door when he got there. She was sitting on the floor, picking at the splinters of the doorframe, her head resting on the wall. She had her phone out and was listening to music, and she had obviously been crying. When she saw Percy, her eyes lit up and she ripped the headphones out of her ears, running to hug him. Then, suddenly, she pulled away, looking at the Shadowhunters with wide eyes.

"Oh my…" She blinked. "What the hell?"

Percy frowned. "You can see them?" he asked. "How can you see them?"

It was Nico who answered, his voice filled with mirth. "She has the Sight," he said.

"What?"

Rachel shrugged. "I thought I was crazy," was all she said.

For a moment, Percy wasn't sure whether or not he should strangle her. Rachel had _lied_ to him? If she had the Sight, then she could see them all along! That meant she had to have seen them at her party. Maybe she'd even _invited_ them. Pressing his palms to his eyes, Percy groaned.

"Are you _kidding_ me?"

This time, it was Alec who laughed, but there was no joy in it. "She's a mundane," he said. "You can't possibly be considering bringing her along."

Annabeth shot him a glare, and it was clear they didn't like each other very much. She snapped, "We have no choice," and stalked off.

Alec glowered at Percy as he walked by, filling it with as much venom as he could. Somehow, Percy figured that venom wasn't all directed at him. He thought maybe some of it had to do with the phone in his hand, the phone that he'd been staring at nearly the entire subway ride over. As they walked, he kept glaring at Annabeth with as much venom as he could muster. Annabeth glared back with ten times that, though she seemed to be fighting off a smile. She was gorgeous, Percy noted, and way too aware of that fact.

"What the hell, Rach?" Percy asked as they walked. Rachel shrugged again.

"Sally told me not to tell you," she said simply. "Besides, I didn't think you could see them."

"Until your party."

"Until my party," she agreed. There was something else she wasn't saying… something dark. "It doesn't matter now."

"But it _does_ matter," Percy protested. "My mum's gone, and I don't know if I can trust these people!" He felt his heart sinking into his shoes as he chased after his friend, who had rushed ahead to join the Shadowhunters. She looked at him for a moment, and her green eyes were dark.

"You can't," she said. "You can't trust anyone."

~O~O~O~O~

The Institute was very dark when they got back. Alec, Isabelle and Jace retreated to the weapons room, claiming they had knives to sharpen and mundanes to avoid. Clary stayed behind, doodling absentmindedly in a giant sketchbook. Rachel sat next to her, her own sketchbook balanced on one knee, and the two of them looked almost like sisters. Rachel's hair was lighter, more orange, and more like fire, and curlier. Clary's was very red, too, but wavier, less messy. She wore it back in a loose ponytail as she worked, and Percy could see Marks on her neck and under her sleeves. Some of them had faded into nothing more than white scars. It was almost beautiful, beautiful in a frightening kind of way.

"You know… I lost my mum once, too," she said. "They were looking for the Mortal Cup."

Percy paled. "The Mortal Cup?" he asked. "They wanted a Cup from _my_ mother!"

Clary shot to her feet, shouting, "Alec! Isabelle! Jace!"

Feet thundered on the stairs as Jace, Isabelle, and Alec ran down the stairs. Jace had a long, healing gash on his arm, as if he'd fumbled a knife on his way out of the weapons room.

"God, Clary!" he cried. "What's happened?"

"The Cup," Clary said. "Whoever took Percy's mother wanted the Cup."

Percy flapped his arms. "What's the Cup?" he asked. Jace scowled.

"The Mortal Cup. One of three Mortal Instruments. It made us Nephilim in the first place, and it can make more if need be. Why did your mother have it?"

Percy shrugged. "I have no idea. I don't even know what you're going on about!"

Suddenly, Thalia appeared just off Jace's shoulder. "They could have meant the _other_ Cup."

"What? _What other Cup?_ I just want to find my mother!"

Thalia, who appeared quite suddenly, grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. "I think you'd better go talk to Annabeth," she said.

"I don't know where she is," Percy admitted. She had left shortly after Jace and the rest, claiming to need new Marks and some peace and quiet.

"Just ask Church," Thalia said, indicating a fat Persian cat sitting on the rug. The cat licked its tail and glared at me. Thalia laughed. "Church, take Percy here to Annabeth."

With a chirp, the cat sprang to its feet and started down the hall, pausing only to cast a baleful look over its shoulder. Reluctantly, Percy followed. The Institute was huge, but the cat seemed to know his way around somehow, turning corners and ascending stairs like they were nothing to him. Percy wondered briefly how old he was… if he had maybe lived forever.

Annabeth was in the training room with Alec and Isabelle. Alec was shooting arrows at a target—he never missed—and Isabelle was throwing knives. Annabeth was practicing flips. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, damp where curls of it touched her face. Her shirt was sleeveless, revealing the coiling Marks on her arm. The moment she saw Percy, her eyes narrowed. He must have been really pale, too, because she stalked over, grabbed his arm, and pulled him out into the hall.

"What do you want with me?" she demanded.

"I want you to tell me what the _other Cup_ is and how I find it."

Annabeth paled, but not before turning several alarming shades of red, blue, and then purple. She sighed.

"Come with me. And be quiet. You may want to take a seat, too. I've got a lot to tell you."

**A/N: You will all find out what the other Cup is in the next chapter… Stay tuned (or not)… **


	5. Chapter 5

Annabeth didn't want to tell Percy anything. That much was clear from the way she sat him down and then sat across from him, arms crossed, legs crossed at the knee, arms resting on her knees. She was pale, too—paler than Percy had ever seen her. For a while, she was silent, crossing and uncrossing her legs and arms until Percy couldn't count the number of times she'd done it anymore. Finally, she spoke, her voice deadly calm.

"The other Cup… _Olympian_ Cup," she said. "It's a cup created by a group of thirteen runaway angels. You saw me name my seraph blade Athena."

"So?" Percy asked. "What the hell is this thing and how do I find it?"

"You don't," Annabeth said softly. "It was supposed to create a new race of… of gods. But their souls were corrupted by power. They became the Olympian gods, gods who have long been lost to the world. My mother… She is one of them. So is your father."

Percy felt his stomach sink. "My father? He's dead. Lost at sea. I don't—"

"How else could you have eaten the ambrosia?"

"Ambrosia?"

"The pudding I fed you."

"I don't know."

"I do," Annabeth murmured. "And I think I know who your father is. My mother was the angel of wisdom. But eyes like those…" She trailed off. The door flew open with a bang, and Alec Lightwood stumbled in, his eyes very wide and a little bit embarrassed.

"The High Warlock of Brooklyn wishes to speak to Annabeth Chase and Perseus Jackson," he said, stuttering slightly. Annabeth smiled, some of the tension washing off her face. All previous animosity towards Alec seemed to have evaporated.

"Tell him we'll be right there," she said. "And do give him a hug and a kiss for me."

Once Alec was gone, Percy cleared his throat.

"Are you and this warlock guy… dating?" he asked awkwardly. Annabeth cracked up, clasping her hands together in front of her face. She had turned bright pink.

"Magnus… and I… _dating_?" she cried. "Oh, of all the strange things I've heard!"

"What's the matter?" asked Percy. Annabeth stopped laughing for long enough to choke out an answer.

"Magnus is with Alec," she explained. "And we'd better hurry. Magnus doesn't like to be kept waiting."

~O~O~O~O~

Magnus Bane was perhaps the most frightening thing Percy had ever seen. He was a young-looking man with black hair gelled into spikes with copious amounts of glittery hair gel. He was dressed in a puffy purple shirt with a bright green waistcoat and shiny black pants, with red boots buttoned all the way up to his knees, and a long, crimson coat to match. . But his most striking feature was a pair of cat's eyes, gold-green with catlike pupils. He was standing with Alec Lightwood, leaning on his shoulder with all the ease and grace of a cat, saying something in his ear with a positively devilish grin. Alec almost laughed, but caught himself and frowned.

"They'll hear you!" he hissed.

"Hear what?" Annabeth asked, her voice all honey and silver. Magnus grinned.

"Biscuit!" he exclaimed, rushing to hug her. "And _where_ could my other little biscuit be?"

Clary's voice chimed from the stairs, "Here!"

Magnus beamed. "Biscuit!" Clary, too, received a hug. Then Magnus fixed his cat eyes on Percy, looking him up and down as if he were searching for another nickname, one that was maybe a little bit manlier than 'biscuit.'

"Hey," he said shyly. Magnus grinned.

"You must be Percy!"

"Uh, yeah, that's me. You're, uh, Magnus."

Magnus looked thrilled. He turned to Alec excitedly. "We're throwing a party tonight," he declared. "In honor of this young man's peculiar green eyes. And your lovely blue ones, of course."

Alec groaned. "Is that really necessary?" he asked. Magnus's smile widened.

"Of course it is, _mon chere_. I want everyone dressed and cheery at my home at ten o'clock _sharp_." Kissing Alec once, he turned and left the room with a swirl of his long, red coat. Then, as if after some thought, he came back in, kissed Alec again, and re-exited. Isabelle was almost in tears by the time they left, she was laughing so hard. Alec was bright red, eyeing Percy warily.

"That was brilliant!" cried Isabelle, clutching the hem of her shirt in her pale, long fingers, using it to wipe the tears away from her eyes.

"Whatever." Alec rolled his eyes, still beet red. "It was embarrassing."

Isabelle dropped the hem of her shirt. "Oh, _please_," she scoffed. "Don't be shy. Percy's a friend."

Alec scowled. "Is that what he is?" he asked finally. Isabelle glared at him.

"Just because you're my brother, don't you _dare_ think I won't smite you where you stand."

Percy would have been terrified in Alec's place, but the Shadowhunter boy made no show of it, merely looking at his sister with slight amusement flickering in his blue eyes. Then he sighed.

"All right," he said. "You win. Dress us all up like little porcelain dolls and drag us to Magnus's party. Far be it from me to stop you."

Isabelle almost clapped her hands. Almost. Instead, she tossed her hair haughtily and turned for the door, snapping her fingers at Annabeth, who grinned. Then she turned to me.

"You're coming with us," she said. "And we're finding you something cute to wear."

"But—"

"No buts!" Isabelle clapped her hand over Percy's mouth, effectively silencing him. He would have sighed if not for that hand. Finally, he shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" Percy decided, but it sounded more like gibberish. Isabelle beamed and removed her hand from his mouth, placing it on her hip.

"Good," she said. "Let's go, then."

**A/N: The only reason this chapter has no plot is because I actually ****_forgot_**** what it was supposed to be. I wrote half of it about three days ago, took a break to write something else, and forgot the plot for this chapter. Also, I'm kind of having trouble thinking of what to write. Some might call it writer's block., I suppose. If anyone has ideas, I'd love to hear them. I know my basic plot, but I don't know how to make it special. **


	6. Chapter 6

Magnus Bane's house party was even crazier than Rachel's. There were people—no, _creatures_—everywhere, and a band of faeries played a depressing tune of love and death. As soon as they stepped through the door, Isabelle shoved Alec and told him to find his boyfriend. Blushing, he pushed through the crowd, eyes searching for Magnus. Percy hung back at the door, anxious and a bit scared. He could swear those were _vampires_ staring out at him from the shadows. But before he could duck out, Annabeth had him by the arm.

"Come on, Seaweed Brain," she said. "I hope you know how to dance."

Percy tried to protest, but she was stronger than he was. In an instant, they were on the dance floor, her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist. Percy was clumsy at best, and Annabeth kept accusing him of stepping on her feet, but they managed. A vampire couple waltzed past them, impossibly graceful, impossibly out of time with the fast music. The woman was dressed in a long, crimson dress, her dark curls pulled away from her face. Dark, heavily black-rimmed eyes stared out from under thick, black eyelashes. Her partner was a tall, slender young man with milky, bloodless skin and sharp hazel eyes. His brown hair was messy. Annabeth stiffened as they passed, looking away.

"Drew," she spat.

"Excuse me?" Percy asked. She sighed.

"Drew Whitebow and Travis Stoll Penmark. Two of the nastiest vampires you'll ever meet. They were Shadowhunters a century ago, but even we can be corrupted. Try not to look at them, or they'll try to trick you. They might well succeed."

Percy felt himself go pale. He looked away from the vampire pair quickly, looking instead at Annabeth's grey eyes.

"Whitebow?" he asked. "Isn't that kind of… old fashioned?"

Annabeth almost laughed. "Not for us Shadowhunters," she said. "Besides, they were Nephilim a century or so ago."

They had danced their way towards a young woman with long brown hair and grey-blue eyes. She was tall and pale, but she wasn't a vampire. Percy could tell as much from the natural flush of her cheeks and the way her chest rose and fell subtley with each breath she took. At any other party, Percy would have thought she was human.

"Annabeth Chasewell," she greeted. "And Perseus Greenwater."

"Uh," Percy interrupted. "It's Percy Jackson, actually."

The woman smiled. "As you wish," she said simply. "What brings you here?"

Annabeth crossed her arms. Percy got the feeling she didn't like this woman much. "We were invited," she said haughtily. "Magnus told us to come."

The woman laughed. "I never doubted it, then!" she smiled. "I am Tessa Gray. And this—" She gestured to a Shadowhunter man with black hair and brown eyes. "Is Jem Carstairs, my husband."

Annabeth almost smiled, but Percy saw her catch herself and scowl. "Is that so?" she asked. "_Warlock_." She spat the word as if it were a curse. Tessa looked hurt.

"That is so," said Jem. "And don't call her 'warlock.' Would you call Magnus that?"

Percy saw Annabeth bristle. "Magnus is not a shape-changer like her. I will call her what I wish."

With that, she turned and stomped off through the crowd, doubtless searching for her friends. Percy turned apologetically to Tessa and Jem.

"I'm sorry about… about Annabeth," he said. "She's tough to deal with, but—"

"You like her." It wasn't a question. Tessa's eyes were shining in the dimness of Magnus's loft. But it wasn't a magical shine, just the shine of happiness in someone who hadn't been happy for a long while.

"Yeah," Percy admitted. "Yeah, I do. She saved my life."

Jem, who had been all but silent, chuckled. "Ah, that _is_ the classic beginning to many a love story."

Blushing, Percy protested. "But I never said I was _in love_!"

Tessa smiled gently. "Of course you didn't," she said. "I'm just good at reading people and books. I like books, you know."

"I don't," Percy said automatically. "I'm dyslexic," he added at  
her stricken expression. Tessa laughed.

"Of course. All of your kind are."

"My kind?" Percy didn't think he liked the way that sounded, but Tessa had not meant it as an insult. She merely smiled and amended her previous words.

"Olympian Nephilim." Tessa's eyes were kind. "I'm sure Miss Chasewell told you about, well, about the Cup. You know… I knew your father, Percy. He was one of the kindest angels before… before he turned. The Olympian angels always _were_ the kindest to begin with, always sympathizing with mortal pain, mortal suffering. They tried to help in whatever way they could, but that was before they became so obsessed with power. Those were happier days. I am almost sorry I was there to see them."

Percy stared at her for a moment, but of course she had been there. She was a warlock. Annabeth had called her one, at least, which meant she was immortal. She would live from the moment of her birth until the end of time, or until someone ended her life through unnatural means. Age would not touch her, nor would sickness. Of course she had been around to see the Olympians turn. Percy thought it must have been odd to live for so long, to see so much, and yet not let it muddle up her view of people like Percy—the children of these angels-gone-bad.

"I…" Percy blinked. "I didn't choose my parents. Well, my mum's great, but I didn't choose my dad. Whoever he is."

"Poseidon," Tessa said. "I'm sure of it. Those eyes…"

"PERCY!" Annabeth's voice was high and distressed. Percy turned to see her running through the crowd to get to them. "Percy, we have a slight problem. It's Rachel."

Percy's heart nearly jumped into his throat. "What happened?"

Annabeth shook her head. "Nothing, just… Do her eyes usually go bright green when she spouts poetry?"

"What?" Percy squeaked. "She doesn't do _any_ of that! What did you do to her?"

Just then, Percy's gaze fell on a flash of red in the middle of the vast apartment. Rachel's hair. Annabeth was right—her eyes _were_ glowing green. Not that they weren't green already, but this was _green_. Serpentine, piercing, terrifying green. Glowing, too. Percy raced towards her, just in time to hear her last repetition of the "poem."

_Search, son of the Sea, for the mother you love  
Search for the Cup, hidden somewhere above  
Find the Oracle, standing plainly in view  
Plead with Wisdom's daughter, or she will not come with you  
Return what's been stolen to its rightful home  
And choose where you stand: with her or alone._

**A/N: I hate writing prophecies sometimes. They're kind of difficult, and sometimes they make no sense. The first one is also always the most ridiculous, and the most painful to write. So… Hope you liked this. **

**Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

After her startling display of poetic prowess, Rachel collapsed in a heap on the floor. In their state of shock, no one moved quickly enough to catch her. She hit the ground with a thump and lay horribly still. The only thing keeping Percy from calling 911 was the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Her hair pooled around her like a puddle of fire. Once he had gotten over his shock, Percy knelt down next to her and helped her sit up. Her eyes fluttered weakly.

"Percy…? Is that you?" She reached up to touch Percy's face, dazed and half giddy from whatever had just happened. "Oh, it _is_ you! You know, I think you're the most beautiful… beautiful person in this _whole_ room? Right, Percy? You're beautiful, you know that? You've always been… so pretty."

Percy looked around desperately, shouting, "She needs help! Please, someone help us!"

It was Clary who came to Rachel's rescue, Isabelle close behind her. Together they lifted her into their arms and carried her to one of Magnus Bane's sofas. Isabelle rushed to find her brother and Magnus, but Clary stayed behind, holding one of Rachel's cold hands in both of hers.

"She'll be all right," she said. "Mundane or not, she'll be just fine. Magnus knows what he's doing. Izzy's just gone to fetch him, but she'll be back soon."

Percy frowned. "Alec doesn't like me all that much," he said. Clary laughed.

"Yeah, well he hated me. He's tough to get to know, but he's actually a sweetheart. You'll like him once he warms up to you."

Percy wasn't sure anything could make Alec like him, but he didn't tell Clary that. She was nice, and she was being so good to Rachel, so he didn't want to scare her off by seeming unfriendly. Besides, she came from the same background as Percy, or at least he thought she did. Her mother was a Shadowhunter-turned-painter, and he could only assume his was a Shadowhunter-turned-writer. Both had hidden some magical cup and gotten kidnapped because of it, and both had kids with green eyes. Well, the eyes didn't matter, but Percy's brain wasn't quite working anymore. By the time Alec, Isabelle, and Magnus appeared, Rachel was unconscious again, and he was almost insane with worry.

"She'll be fine," Magnus said, resting his hand on her forehead. "Has she ever done this before?"

Percy shook his head. "Never."

"Then that's all it is. Her body isn't used to the temporary replacement of her consciousness with that of the Oracle. It seems the talent was dormant until now. Something must have awakened it." He looked at Percy as if he thought Percy had all the answers, which, of course, Percy didn't. If anything, he knew less than anyone else.

"Excuse me," he said, trying to be polite like his mother always taught him to be. "What's the Oracle and how did Rachel get it?"

Magnus laughed, his cat eyes shining. "It's not a sickness, nor is it something you get. She was born the Oracle's host… It's just taken a while to manifest itself. My guess is her parents knew some Downworlders… hidden in plain sight, I would think. Perhaps a warlock with a particularly strong glamour…" He trailed off, running his fingers along Rachel's pale arm. He seemed to be looking for something.

"Magnus?" It was Alec who spoke, soft and concerned. "She's going to be fine, right? Whatever this is, you can fix it?"

The warlock's fingers stopped near Rachel's wrist and turned it to face Percy and the others. Then he whispered a short enchantment. A black rune, not unlike the Shadowhunter runes, appeared on her skin. Magnus Bane frowned and shook his head.

"This," he said, "I cannot 'fix.' It's the Oracle's rune. Whoever put the spirit there… put it there for good. Until Rachel dies, the spirit can't be removed without killing her on the spot. There's nothing I can do. She'll be fine. Still Rachel, but more… poetic."

Percy stared at the rune miserably. Now that he thought about it, it didn't really look like a Shadowhunter rune at all. It was beautiful, but not in the same way the Shadowhunter's runes were. It was… ancient. Percy shivered. Rachel would have that _thing_ trapped inside her own consciousness for the rest of her life. She would have to lie to every mundane friend she had because they couldn't know the truth. Her _parents_ couldn't know, even though they were the ones whose fault this was. They had befriended a Downworlder, no matter how hidden, and they had somehow allowed this to happen to their daughter.

"Who would do this?" he muttered. "How old was she when they put the rune on her?"

Magnus Bane shrugged. "Probably a baby. It wouldn't have hurt her, so I don't see why you're getting all worked up about it, biscuit."

_Fabulous_, Percy thought. _Just fantastic. He's calling me biscuit_. But before he could get up and shout at the stupid warlock, a firm hand was pulling him away towards the crowd of dancers. It was Annabeth, scowling and furious.

"How could _anyone_ do this?" she cried, mimicking Percy's exact thoughts. "And how can Magnus be so calm? Did _he_ do it to her? Did _he_ put that damn rune on her wrist when she was little? I bet he did. Did you ever hear about what he did to Clary? He _wiped her memories_. He made her forget _everything_."

Percy tried to wrap his mind around that, but he was far too worried about Rachel. From the dance floor, he could see her waking up, looking around for him. He could see her calling out, but he couldn't hear her words. Not that he'd want to, anyways. He didn't know if he could face her now, not after what he'd seen the Oracle do. The strange poem—prophecy?—still echoed in his head, chilling and scary. _And choose where you stand: with her or alone._ He didin't know what that meant, but he had a pretty good idea.

"You hate Downworlders," he said to Annabeth. "Why?"

She hugged herself, though it wasn't cold. "Why not?" Her voice was soft and sad. "You would, too, if you had seen what I saw. A Downworlder… _killed_ my father and brothers. Killed them and buried them. No one else saw it. No one _believed_ it. How can I _not_ hate them?"

Percy had to admit she had a point. He couldn't imagine seeing his mother killed by Downworlders—mostly because he hadn't met any that seemed the killing type. But he understood Annabeth's fear, her hatred, because he felt it, too. Somewhere, locked away in the back of his mind, in the back of his _heart_, was a hatred that ran nearly as deep. _Monsters_, his brain said. _No better than the demon that took your mother away._

"I…" He faltered, lost for words. "Do you want to find the Downworlders that killed your family?"

She nodded, her hair falling softly over her shoulders. "More than anything."

"Then I'll help you. I want to find my mother." He paused. "Besides, I like you a lot more than I'd care to admit."

Annabeth almost laughed. "You're not so bad yourself. So… you stand with me, then?"

Percy nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."

**A/N: Comments, questions, concerns?**


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